


The Quest

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is in search of good beer. Amanda distracts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quest

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a ROG-L story challenge, incorporating the big words and I believe 'belt sander' as well. Originally posted in 1998 under my real name.

Methos sighed contentedly as he sprawled gracefully across Joe's leather couch. MacLeod was out of town - in Scotland, actually, visiting the old haunts for the Solstice.

"In Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel," he murmured to himself with a wry smile. Duncan MacLeod didn't fool him. He knew damn well MacLeod had high-tailed it outta Seacouver the second Methos had popped into town, muttering something about guarding the flocks. Methos retorted with stunning tales of his days with Byron and the origination of the term "get your goat," and a pale-faced MacLeod had booked a flight to Glenfinnan that very night. If that made him a paraphilia, then so be it. He'd been much, much worse during his life. Just remembering what the Horsemen used to do with the camels they had  _before_ the horses was enough to cause him to shudder. Of course, with the camels  _had_ come the interesting dilemma of just how to stay on them while in motion. Luckily, Kronos had plenty of imagination, or they would have been trampled to death far too often.

He was grinning again as Joe Dawson wheeled into the living area. "Can you possibly take up more space on that couch?" Joe asked with just a trace of annoyance.

Methos shifted minutely as he stared at Joe with exaggerated concentration. "Yes, I can. Give me a minute." In twenty seconds, there was not one scrap of leather visible.

Joe sighed. "I had to ask. So, what were you thinking about?"

"You don't want to know," Methos suggested with a maniacal cackle.

"Yes, I do," Joe answered, his curiosity now piqued.

"Sex," Methos answered matter-of-factly.

Joe sighed again. "I should have known. You know, you really do suffer from hemeroticism."

"I do, don't I?" Methos replied smugly. "So, Joe, what's on the menu for this evening?"

At Joe's sly grin, Methos groaned. "Please, no more generic beer! I don't think I could stand any more."

"Hey, if you don't like it, buy your own. I'm not a liquor store, regardless of what it says downstairs!" he added indignantly before Methos could toss another smart-assed remark.

"But Joseph," Methos purred as he glided off the couch, "You are the best supplier in town." He dropped to his knees next to Joe and fluttered his lashes at the Watcher.

Joe rolled his eyes and muttered, "Flirt."

Methos adopted his best lost kitten look. "Who, me?" he whispered.

"Oh, damn. Here." Joe shoved twenty bucks into Methos' hand, which had just began a dangerous path down Joe's chest to his crotch. "Anything to get you off my back."

"But I like being on your back," Methos murmured as he leaned in and kissed Joe lightly.

"I think you like my couch better," Joe shot back as his eyes fell to Methos' medectasia. "Isn't it a little early for that?" he mused.

"For you? Never. Though I do suppose I should hit the store before all those holiday shoppers invade," Methos sighed. "I'll see you later." He picked a banana out of the fruit basket Joe had received that morning on his way out the door and tucked it in his pocket, keeping the grin on his face.

Once outside, he regretted not bringing his entire arsenal of weaponry. Crowds of people rushing in every direction, not caring where they stepped or who they bumped into swirled around him. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he fought his way to the corner liquor store.  _Never again! I'll find a place that makes deliveries_! His head snapped up as he felt a buzz and glanced around warily. MacLeod swore he wouldn't be back until after the new year, Richie was in Disneyland probably doing it with Snow White on the 'It's a Small World' Ride, Connor...

"Adam! Dahling!"

Methos closed his eyes and cursed himself and his luck. "Amanda," he sighed. He plastered on a smile as he turned and Amanda grabbed him in a bear hug.

"It's so good to see you! I wasn't expecting you here. I thought you'd be with Duncan," she mused, a curious light in her eyes.

"Why would I be with MacLeod?" he evaded as he started walking again, his destination in sight. A half block more, and he would be holding paradise in his hands.

"Aren't you two joined at the...hip?" Amanda suggested with a squeeze to Methos' ass.

He yelped and jumped slightly, turning to face her. "Amanda, MacLeod and I do not have that sort of relationship," he growled.

"Right," Amanda nodded with wide eyes. "You're just friends."

"Yes, we are just friends," he enunciated clearly. He watched her face carefully as he added nonchalantly, "Why would I need MacLeod when I have Joe?"

Amanda's face reddened as her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"I think I like you like that, Amanda. Have you used that in a circus act yet? The only woman on the planet whose voice doesn't work! Think of the...OW!" he yelped as Amanda's hand slapped across his cheek. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes, it was," she huffed. She crossed her arms and gave him her best pout. "Where are you going?"

"To the liquor store. Joe doesn't stock the good stuff upstairs." Methos turned and started back toward his initial destination. Amanda's arm snaked through his and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"What do you want, Amanda?" he asked warily.

"Why do you think I want something?" she purred in his ear.

"Because you're being nice. And you're pouting. You only pout when you really want something. So, out with it, blondie." Methos stopped and extracted her hand from his arm, then glared at her until she relented.

"Oh, all right. I need a place to stay. MacLeod changed the locks."

"Did he?" he mused. "Interesting."

"It's not funny, Methos!" she wailed.

"Why don't you just pick the lock?" Methos suggested calmly. Her eyes lit up, and Methos feared he had just been made an accomplice. "Uh, Amanda... "

"Oh, Methos," she whispered breathlessly against his neck as she practically jumped into his arms, "Isn't it perfect? You and me, all alone in the loft..."

"Amanda? When did I get into this picture?" he asked with a hint of panic to his voice.

She leaned even closer and whispered at length in his ear. By the time she finished speaking, he was breathing in short gasps and fighting with himself not to drag her to the ground and take her there. "You talked me into it," he rasped. "Come on."

"I intend to," she smirked as Methos led the way back to MacLeod's loft.

Ten minutes after their meeting in the street, Methos and Amanda were in MacLeod's loft. The answering machine was rapidly blinking in the musky darkness, though they ignored it. Methos latched his mouth onto Amanda's and swung them into the loft, and promptly tripped.

"Damn!" he yelled as he held his offended foot.

Amanda bent down to see what he had hit. "A cordless drill? What is MacLeod doing up here?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's remodeling. Do the lights work?" Methos was still nursing his sore toe, massaging it directly as he had taken off his shoes and socks.

"We don't need lights, Methos," Amanda purred as she curled up beside him.

"This is true," he murmured as he slid his hand around her neck and untied her satin scarf. He pulled it across the sensitive skin of her neck, then let it drop to the floor. His hand recupped her neck and pulled her closer for a long, deep kiss. With a dull thud, they landed on the floor, mouths and hands eagerly seeking out hot flesh. Clothes were ripped aside impatiently, and all of a sudden, a loud noise startled both of them.

"What in the hell was that?" Methos demanded as he looked for the source. Finally, he unearthed an electric belt sander with Amanda's scarf wrapped hopelessly around the belt. "We must have kicked the 'on' button," he mused. He glanced to Amanda, who had an unearthly gleam in her eyes, which were locked on the sander in his hand. "NO. Absolutely not, NO," he stated emphatically. "I am  _not_ going to be experimented on!"

"What fun are you then?" she pouted. "That was my favorite scarf, and you're just going to let it be sacrificed for nothing?"

"Oh, not nothing," he grinned ferally as he covered her body with his. "I intend to sacrifice you as well." With a growl, he descended upon her.

"Ouch! I think there's sawdust on the floor," Amanda wailed. "It's getting in my hair!"

"Stop whining," Methos grunted as he nuzzled at her neck. "I'll personally bathe you with my tongue when we're through; okay?"

"Works for me," she gasped between moans. Methos pounded into her relentlessly, calling on all five thousand years of experience to drive her crazy. Her nails raked down his back as she pulled herself up and rode him harder. She was tossed roughly to the floor as Methos gained momentum, almost to his peak.

"Gods Amanda, where'd you learn that?" he managed to gasp before they both heard the downstairs door being opened.

"Police!"

"Shit! Why do these things always happen to me? Roll under the bed," Methos hissed. Together, very carefully (but quickly), they maneuvered themselves under MacLeod's bed and tried to quiet their gasps.

Amanda's nose was buried in Methos' neck, and he was still buried inside her. She started to move, very slowly, against him. Methos bit back a whimper and sent a thousand curses her way. He was physically incapable of moving with her on top of him, but he was painfully, agonizingly, desperately needing release.

The police either didn't notice the half-shredded clothes tossed around the living room, or they thought MacLeod was a messy housekeeper, because after a minute, they left.

The second the doors closed, Methos attempted to move from under the bed, but Amanda held him firmly and he let loose with his whimper.

"You're not going anywhere, old man," she whispered seductively as she began thrusting gently against him.

"If I could move even one muscle, I'd kill you, Amanda," he threatened breathlessly.

"Oh, I think you'll be able to move at least  _one_ ," she assured him as she clenched around him.

The bed lifted off the floor, then crashed back down on them with the force of their climaxes.

"What in the hell am I laying on?" Methos groaned as he attempted to get feeling back in his limbs.

"I don't know, but I think I now have the bottom of this bed imprinted on my back!" Amanda huffed, though there was no wiping the 'cat that ate the cream, canary and mouse' grin off her face. "Hold still." She pulled Methos from under the bed and rolled him onto his stomach. "Let's see . . . one of Duncan's hair-ties, and I think this is an aspirin. WHAT?" she screeched as she held up two tiny items.

"What?" Methos growled as he rubbed at the indentations in his back.

"These!" She thrust out two unmatched earrings - neither of them hers.

"Hm, looks like MacLeod's been a busy boy while you were away."

"Shut up, Methos, or I'll drag out  _my_ box of toys."

"Oh?" he perked up. "And what would be inside of that toy box?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, then went to the far wall, extracted a pair of fur-lined handcuffs, and waved them at him. He nodded his approval. "Nice, but don't you have something a bit more...adventurous?"

"I'm not in the mood to play games right now, or else I'd really bring out the big guns."

"Promises, promises," Methos sighed. He rolled onto his back and propped himself up against the wall. He stared under the bed, curious. "Hello, what's this?" he murmured as he crawled under the bed and extracted one pair of slippers in the shape of puppy-dogs. "Did you get him these?"

"What?" Amanda asked as she turned around. She started to giggle. "I didn't buy them. Oh, don't tell me. Do they make any noises?"

"I'm not trying them on." Methos held them at arm's length.

"Baby," Amanda snapped as she plucked them from his hands and stuffed them on her feet. She walked a bit, and they made a cute barking noise. "This is too precious. This is too delicious! Just wait until Duncan gets back!"

A buzz swept through both of them, and they scrambled for their swords. They were standing side by side, naked (except Amanda still had on the slippers), when Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod arrived up at his loft, katana drawn.

The katana clattered to the floor. A bag dropped out of MacLeod's other hand, spilling lavender-scented bath oil all over a scale model of the Eiffel Tower. "What are ye doing here?" he demanded. "And why are ye naked?"

"I can explain," Amanda hastened to answer. "You see, I ran into Methos on the street, and we decided to check in on the loft, you know, just in case anything happened or the police showed up or something, and my clothes got caught in the sander . . ." her voice trailed off at MacLeod's angry glare.

"All I wanted was a beer," Methos answered with a shrug. "Haven't you ever gone on a quest - done absolutely everything and anything - for something you truly wanted?"

"Well, yes," MacLeod answered with a confused frown.

"Then, I'm off to the store before they close. Amanda, it was a pleasure. See you around, MacLeod." Methos coolly got dressed, sheathed his sword, and calmly walked down the stairs and back out into the street. He arrived back at Joe's place fifteen minutes later.

When he opened the door, Joe slammed the phone down. "Where the hell have you been? I thought you'd been challenged! You've been gone over two hours!"

He just shrugged. "Well, Joe, sometimes a quest takes longer than you think." He went to the refrigerator and deposited the beer he had purchased. "So, while you were here alone, did you think of something for dinner?"

"Dinner? You expect me to have dinner planned after I've been worried about you? Go to hell! And you can sleep on the couch tonight!" He wheeled himself into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Methos popped the top on his beer and took a long draught. "Aaaah, that was worth it." He leaned back on the couch, resuming his earlier sprawl.

The End


End file.
